


cups and cats and cream

by fuwaesthetic



Category: Persona 5
Genre: M/M, SIKE MONTHS AGO ME i'm posting it now, anyway i don't know when or why this takes place, someone requested it and i said i wasn't putting it on ao3 months ago?, there are implications
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 17:44:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12636024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuwaesthetic/pseuds/fuwaesthetic
Summary: There are things in this world that are undeniably beautiful—the stars, the way the sun looks on the horizon every morning and every evening, the profile of a person lit by the soft golden glow of lights at night, an unending field of flowers.There are things in this world that are subjectively beautiful—people in general, the way someone laughs and their breath catches in one long gasp, animals, the sky at any time of the day with any number of clouds, art.Akira Kurusu, without a doubt, belongs squarely in the first category.





	cups and cats and cream

**Author's Note:**

> requested by an anon on tumblr, prompt: “I don’t think anyone could ever be as lovely as you.” specifically w/akechi saying it
> 
> this was terribly indulgent then and it still is and i don't care c:

There are things in this world that are undeniably beautiful—the stars, the way the sun looks on the horizon every morning and every evening, the profile of a person lit by the soft golden glow of lights at night, an unending field of flowers.

There are things in this world that are subjectively beautiful—people in general, the way someone laughs and their breath catches in one long gasp, animals, the sky at any time of the day with any number of clouds, art.

Akira Kurusu, without a doubt, belongs squarely in the first category.

Goro thinks so as he ghosts his fingers across his forehead, swiping unruly bangs out of place only for them to shift back into it; Akira dozes, deeply and unaware, and his chest tightens.

He thinks he himself probably belongs in the second category; he’s told he’s a pretty boy, a charming young man, a  _prince_ —and he agrees with them, on his good days, but none of them see the messy-headed youth that drags himself out of bed three hours after getting into it, looking like Death himself had decided to play chess with him. He’s hardly pretty or charming or princely then; he’s hardly any of that the longer the night grows, the longer he spends on his apartment balcony partaking in petty illegal activities he knows no one would ever think of him indulging in.

Goro knows for a fact that Akira wakes up looking just a pretty as he is now, with languid movements and slowly blinking eyes, the curve of a smile that reflects his hand on the curve of his hip. It’s a sight he’s been treated to a number of times, one that leaves his heart yearning for more.

It never stops him from taking the first train out, Yongen-Jaya still shrouded in dim lighting. Usually, it doesn’t stop him from even taking the night train, but sometimes, he’s just so tired, and he just wants to sink into Akira’s warmth and pretend he’s someone he’s not.

Today, too, that’s what he wants, but he puts on a smile when he watches Akira’s eyes flutter open and a yawn stretch his mouth obscenely wide. Obscene, because Goro thinks of last night and how good it’d felt, nearly reaching the back of his throat, and his smile tilts slightly when Akira laughs at him.

“I didn’t think you’d be up for a morning round,” he says, tilting his head so his bangs fall across his eyes in a manner that ruins the quiet boy aesthetic he works for. Goro laughs politely, shaking his head, and sits up. Akira doesn’t follow suit; he watches him, like peeling back the layers on Goro Akechi is something to wake himself up with, and Goro feels his skin prickle and crawl with the idea. 

“I was just admiring you,” he murmurs, reaching over and pushing a lock of Akira’s hair behind his ear. It stays there, but only because his fingers do, too. “It’s not often that I get to look at someone as pleasing to the eyes as you.”

“Ever look in a mirror?” Akira shoots back, quick-witted despite sleep still rounding his consonants and softening their sound. Goro rolls his eyes and traces the shell of his ear, unable to keep a small grin off his face when Akira moves into the touch. Like a cat. 

It’s endearing. It makes his chest hurt again.

“I’m serious, you know.” He pulls his hand away and tells himself he’s not letting Akira catch his wrist, he was just a little too slow with it. “You’re very nice to look at. I don’t think anyone could ever be as lovely as you. Well,” Goro smooths his grin to a smile, cheerful and teasing, “when you can’t talk, anyway.”

“I’m hurt, Akechi.” Akira yanks him back down, pulling him closer; Goro’s breath hitches at wet, open kisses on his throat, slow and warm. “I thought you liked my wit?”

“Most of the time,” he replies, slipping his hand behind Akira’s head and curling his fingers into the hair at the back of his neck, pulling him back; he tries not to get too excited at the hiss that results from it. “First thing in the morning? Hardly. Go back to sleep.”

Akira opens his mouth to protest, and Goro covers it with his own, not wanting to hear it; the kiss is too heated to be romantic, but it’s not fast enough for any other label. It breaks at the alarm on his phone anyway, an annoying, soft noise that they’d ignore if they weren’t both so used to keeping an ear out for it, and he presses his nose into Akira’s throat for a moment, breathing deeply, before he sits up again.

“Thank you for the night.” Politely, and Goro smooths the scrunch between Akira’s brows with a thumb before he drags himself out of bed, collecting scattered clothes and dressing with slow, sure hands. “I’ll be by again.”

 _For coffee_ , they mutually understand. For company, for chatter, for other c-words that aren’t coital or coming. (Sometimes it turns to that, if he stays late enough, if he needs something more physical enough, but most days, it’s just cups and cats and cream.)


End file.
